


Haunted

by Malcontent_Ash



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Ultimateverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Psychological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1456606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malcontent_Ash/pseuds/Malcontent_Ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik finds himself drowning in what he thought he'd already laid to rest.  Short on options, he calls his old friend and bitter enemy Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not looking forward to formatting all of the italics in this. I really hope you guys enjoy it. : P

# Haunted

 

    The noise was loud in his ears and growing louder. The sirens filled his ears and his body shook with it. Around him he could see prisoners running in different directions, pushing against each other as some fought their way toward the gates and others rushed back toward their bunks. He could feel his chest tight and he was gasping for air as the sirens roared in his head.

     That was the fifth night in a row that he had awakened in a cold sweat to the sound of his own screams.

     Years ago, Erik had recruited a young Emma Frost to shut away his emotional attachment to his past. He had trusted her inexperience because it allowed him to use her as a mechanism to control his own mind. With a heavy hand, he had taken his most upsetting memories and trusted Emma to bury them deep. The effect had been immediate. That night he slept more fully than he had in several decades.

     Years since then, the barriers in his mind have started to wear down and the memories he had Emma bury so deep had rotten fingers clawing up from under the soil. Gnarled hands would grip his ankles and his mind would be stuck, running in motion for several hours or days. The fog might clear from his head suddenly and he’d find himself in the middle of a press statement with the people of Genosha. His mind was tearing at the seams and Genosha would bear the brunt of it. It was with that in mind that Erik called Charles Xavier.

     Erik Lehnsherr sat late on a Saturday morning on the balcony of his metal sanctuary overlooking the great falls of Genosha. The phone churred in his ear three times before the line went quiet except for a short exhale of breath.

     “Erik,” it commented agreeably.

     “Charles,” he agreed, a little less mildly. “I’ve called to ask a favor of you.” Instead of continuing he waited to gauge the younger man’s reaction. The phone hummed appreciatively.

     “Within reason, my favors to you have always been freely given.” Charles sounded tired. Erik knew that he slept fitfully as well most nights with phantom sensations in his unfeeling legs. A warm wind blew through Erik’s long grey hair and pressed his robes against his skin.

     “It is a matter of the mind, Charles. One that demands a capable psychic and no small amount of trust.” Years of bittersweet memories hung heavy in the silence that followed.

     “A mind is a complicated thing. There are no certainties.” Erik could hear a lifetime of lectures on the matter in Charles’ own voice such as his thoughts about the ethics of psychics and countless other things that Erik had never really cared to hear about in such great detail but that Charles was one to share, especially once inebriated. His other hand absentmindedly rubbed an unruly, wiry brow before he spoke.

     “Yes, of course. I’d never have asked you if it wasn’t a matter of importance.” The word ‘you’ had more emphasis in his voice than he’d intended. Instead of the normal pause before Charles spoke as he carefully weighed each word, Charles replied a little too quickly.

     “I’m available one week from today if you’d like to meet then.” The words were a fraction of a second too quick to be casual, a nuance that one who hadn’t spent years hearing Charles’ voice wouldn’t have noticed.

    “Thank you,” Erik agreed, offering it as a cure to his guilt conscience.

    “Until then.” The line went dead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

     One week from that warm spring Saturday, they sat in Charles’ study as they had many times before across a chessboard. Charles roamed in and out of the other man’s mind to chat and talk about strategy, hoping to give Erik practice in lowering his mental barriers. In Erik’s mind they were sitting and speaking aloud.

     _You’re still protecting yourself, Erik._

      _It’s fine. Emma just pushed a little harder._ His mind tightened reflexively and Charles drew back slightly.

      _Forcing anything as delicate as a mind can cause a lot of damage._ Even in Erik’s mind, Charles’ lips twitched downward with poorly disguised displeasure with Emma’s methods. Erik took another deep breath and tried to relax. _Remember why we are doing this. Think of Genosha._ Erik scowled, unnerved by Charles’ insight.

      _You have to willingly give me control. Imagine you were driving a car or carrying something precious._ In their minds Magneto grew impossibly large, holding the memory of Genosha in his calloused hands.

      _Can you allow me to hold it?_ Charles spoke gently, holding his hands palm up as it to accept an embrace. Magneto stayed impossible large, watching the normally sized Charles from over the edge of his city. It would crush the tiny man. There was no way he could do it, despite being well aware that he was holding a memory and nothing more. The city faded from his hands and he shrunk back into his normal size. He was frustrated, clearly unused to failing and his focus waned. He hated psychics. It was unnatural.  He felt Charles’ mind wince and he calmed himself again.

     _How could you possibly have gotten Weapon X to surrender like this?_ Even in his head, Genosha was his home and life's work.

     _Everyone’s mind works differently._ Charles held the information from him and questioning it was like standing in an impossible whiteness. Erik huffed lightly in frustration. _It will take some time to figure out how this can work for you. There’s no reason to exert yourself. Let’s take a break and try again tomorrow._ Magneto felt himself drawn into Xavier’s calm space. White sand covered him up to his ankles and a white shoreline met a white sky far on the horizon. Xavier floated next to him, looking for acceptance as he closed the connection. The image of Wanda’s worried face forced its way into his mind as they spoke.

     _No, Charles. We should continue. I want to have this over with._ His friend floated toward him with a sigh.

     _Patience, Erik. There’s a lot of damage done that cannot disappear overnight. We can try one more time, but I fear any more than that will make it all the more difficult the next time we try._ The white sand hardened beneath his feet as the sand and the sea were replaced with a white void. They started again with a blank canvas. _Instead of giving me control, why don’t you try guiding us inside? Bring me with you into a memory._ Charles offered his hand to make imagining the transition easier, but Erik refused. He concentrated on the most vivid memory he had, one that wasn’t marred by death and horror.

     Erik stood behind his younger self who was seated facing a Nazi general at a large wooden desk. On the desk sat a couple paperclips, a nail, and a coin. Charles could feel himself gaining traction in the memory, but his body had no control to move. He sat beside Erik, chained to what looked like his old wheelchair. Gently, he cleared his throat, jarring Erik’s attention from the scene.

    _Any guilt that you may be harboring has no place here._ Erik looked slightly affronted before the heavy chains lifted and disappeared. Charles stretched his legs gratefully. Thank you. He smiled brightly to show that he harbored no ill will. Charles walked toward the door that had been only painted on the wall with Erik’s mind and opened it. It led to a dark hallway.

     _What is this?_ The blackness was perilous and cold.

     _You can remember snapshots clearly but the rest has been stolen away. When you and Emma buried the memories, the connections were lost and only particularly memorable events could show through._ Erik could feel the familiar icy grip on his throat.

     _The dreams…_ He had a hunch.

     _This is a major cause of them._ Erik could feel himself drowning in the empty space. He gagged on the weight of the air around him.

     _Erik. Erik, I need you to take us to another memory. Think of a time when you felt very secure. Guide us away from here._ Another door formed beside them and Charles opened it without hesitation. It was warm, sometime in late spring or early summer and the air smelled hot and sweet like flowers. The images of trees blurred around them out of focus as two figures walked by. Charles turned to Erik to ground them against the vertigo of the unclear memory, but Erik was facing away. Charles stepped beside him to see the memory from his point of view.

     Crystal clear as everything else burred and stuttered was the image of his own face smiling sheepishly before laughing outwardly. He saw himself young, brown hair curling in slight waves around his earls. He watched himself, over and over again making the same motions and expressions. He studied himself, cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment before his chin tilted up and he laughed wholeheartedly.

     Erik was in shock beside him, eyes wide and mouth slack as he watched the treasured memory over and over again. Everything around the muddled and whirled out of focus but the motion repeated with perfect clarity. Charles stopped the memory, allowing his face to blur and fade with everything around them.

    _Erik,_ his voice was quiet, cautious as he approached. The taller frame jumped when fingers touched a shoulder.

     _What are you trying to pull?_ Erik’s mind reeled backward, anger clouding his judgment.

     _It’s perfectly normal for a memory to be stuck like that,_ Charles promised, voice wavering slightly.

      _Your presence altered my mind,_ he accused venomously. Charles’ eyes widened fractionally, the hurt clear for only an instant before he wiped it away.

     _It was a lovely memory. I remember it now. We were in the park off Charlotte Street._ Charles reached forward, bringing up his own memory of the same day. He remembered best the things Erik had said and the look of slightly guarded excitement as they discussed the potential for a mutant safe haven. He and Erik grew younger, shifting until they matched what they remembered themselves and each other to be.

      _I’m sorry if my seeing this upset you._ He studied Erik’s face which had lost most of his anger. They watched each other carefully under the wilted blossoms which were falling from the trees above them until Erik turned away.

     _Do you think this will help me?_ He asked, studying the stronger hands of his youth.

     _It will help you to trust me so we can put the memories back in place,_ Charles reasoned, reaching out to place his hand on the meat of his friend’s shoulder. The young Erik gripped his hand, pulling it with him as they walked back into the memory.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got an idea of where I'd go from here to turn it into something rated T-E, depending on what people want. Please comment or leave kudos if you'd be interested in reading more so I can gauge how much interest there is. Thanks, as always for reading. The little numbers at the bottom of my stories fuel my 3AM writing sprees. <3


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